Forgotten Bridge

There is a bridge.
Children cross it every day.
It goes between
                  the visible
                  and invisible.

On the other side
lives your imagination.

It can see
                  what the eye cannot,
can smell
                  scents only dogs know,
and can speak
                  using the language of soul.

Don’t you find it enlivening
to look at something
looking back at you?

If you live long enough
you’ll eventually come
to a crossroads called,
What the hell happened?

Make a turn in either direction.
This is the road often mistaken
as memory lane.

Follow it anyway.
It leads you back
to that forgotten bridge.

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This poem was written on November 17, 2025.